


my own heart and me

by UniversalSatan



Category: Dead Poets Society (1989)
Genre: Fluff, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 03:28:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18380042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniversalSatan/pseuds/UniversalSatan
Summary: Falling in love is a process. A slow and poignant process.Anderperry April Day 5: Pining





	my own heart and me

**Author's Note:**

> so i started this yesterday but i forgot to post it before the day was over aha and i've had a bit of a weird week so here's something quite short i think, since i noticed it's anderperry april apparently. so uh, yeah!!! :-) a day late!!! 
> 
> also sorry for the shitty poetry aha i just sat down and wrote it all in one go so i hope its okay (i was listening to otis rush so i think blues helps lmfao) :)) also unbetad and unedited, as per usual, oof

 

It takes two months for Neil Perry to start falling.

Falling in love is a process, if you could even call it that. To fall in love at first sight is only a glorification of infatuation, and thus there is a process that must occur before the development of pragma can fully instate itself in the relationship between two individuals. Hence, it was no surprise that Neil started off where he did.

The first two months were slow. There is no reason to dramatize any feelings Neil and Todd had for each other, because at this point, there were none. All that ran between them was the current of natural awkwardness one feels with a new acquaintance. Neil was the first to brush it off, but everyone could tell that it took Todd a lot longer.

So if it was not love at first sight, when did Neil Perry really start falling? There is honestly no definite answer; it could have been when they sat beside each other for an entire hour during study period. Or perhaps it was when Neil couldn't figure out why _The Great Gatsby_ was so highly regarded, which spiraled into a long philosophical debate about literature and symbolism with Todd. Then again, it could have very well been during a Dead Poets Society meeting, where the night hours make the boys giddy enough in addition to anything elicited with all the nonsense they get up to. It was in these moments that he realized that more than anything, he wanted to strengthen the budding of a friendship they had between them.

After whatever that initial moment was, it all started out small. Small enough that Neil only began to look at the other boy from the corner of his eye, filled with curiosity. He found himself seeking the other out, lingering by his side just to speak with him for a bit longer between classes. On the rare occasion, their hands would accidentally brush, or one would collapse onto the other if they or the other Dead Poets were rough-housing, and Neil found himself freezing where he was, tentatively hoping that Todd would also freeze so he could indulge in the foreign feeling that bristled within his chest.

Did Neil do anything past that? _Of course he did._ Whenever it was acceptable (like when Todd was speaking, or when he was presenting for some class), Neil would take advantage of the situation and stare at Todd's face, taking every feature to memory. His eyes were soft and almond-like and almost always vulnerable; his hair was short enough that it didn't fall into his eyes, but every once in a while, having fallen out of place from being swept up, it would curl ever so slightly to the side; though far and few across his skin, he did have some freckles dotting his cheeks. What was probably the best about Todd's face was how it lit up whenever Neil complemented him (which he did at every opportunity he came across, emphasizing his avid fascination in Todd's writing), turning slightly red from being flustered as he would weakly attempt to deny his talent.

Neil was content about where he stood. Sure, his mind would wander and fabricate impossible fantasies that would pleasure him in the night or even entertain him during a particularly boring lecture, but he was content with where he was, stealing all the time he could with the other boy. 

It was times like these that Neil liked best; times that trapped them both together, isolating them from the rest of the world as they talked about nothing important. This night, it started with a restless lack of sleep, where both tossed and turned every few moments.

"Todd?"

The other boy shuffled around in his blankets, his voice barely a whisper. "Mm? What?"

"You awake?"

"I think so. You?"

"I think so too."

Grinning, Neil shifted around in his bed, twisting and curling himself under his sheets to get enough visibility to see Todd's face (also burrowed in blankets) from across the room. As soon as Neil had successfully turned over, Todd couldn't help the smirk on his face, which he attempted to bury in blankets in vain.

"Why can't you sleep?" Todd's voice was muffled.

"I dunno. Thinking too much? How about you?"

There was utter silence after Neil posed his question, but he knew Todd was mulling it over by the way his eyes sharpened, staring at Neil as he tried to decide on something. In the time that it took for Todd to do anything in response, Neil's eyes grew accustomed to the darkness of the room, only aided by the moonlight pouring in through their leaky window. The radiator clicked a few times.

"That's it," Todd declared, shifting suddenly. "I can't do this anymore." Neil watched, baffled, as Todd stood up, making his way to his desk and pulling out his chair. As he clicked his reading lamp on, Neil sat up slowly in his own bed to get a better look at the spectacle unraveling before him.

"Todd?" He rubbed at his eyes, still trying to get used to the sudden change in light.

"I just can't sit still," he explained rather unhelpfully. Now he was dragging out a notebook of his, searching for the nearest writing utensil. "These- These words in my head... I have to write them down before they disappear forever."

Neil couldn't stop grinning. "Can't they wait for tomorrow?" Todd shook his head.

"I have to write them down or I'll die."

"Is that so?"

"Now shush or I'll forget them now."

Surprisingly, Neil did as he was told. He waited patiently, entertained by the scritching of pen against paper and tracing Todd's outline with his eyes — having Todd between the lamp and Neil really made the boy seem to glow. Hair was sticking up in every direction due to how Todd had been sleeping, and as funny as it was, Neil desperately wanted to go and smooth it over for him. Though neither was speaking, something about the peaceful air between them made Neil's heart swell. He played with his sheets, shifting only to huddle into their accumulated warmth.

"Done," Todd finally proclaimed at the clatter of his pen against the desk. He sat still for a little while longer, reading over his work.

In that time of pause, Neil moved to stand up, draping his blankets around his shoulders like a cape. "What is it?"

"Something I was writing before," he murmured. "It felt unfinished and I finally figured out how to end it."

Neil crept up to him, trying to lean over Todd's shoulder and read his notebook. "Can I read it?"

Todd paused. His shoulders had lifted over a held breath, but he was still shielding his notebook from the other, mulling over his options. Finally, he glanced up and around at Neil, scrutinizing his every feature.

"It's not my best," he said at last.

"Do you really think that'd make a difference?"

Todd eyed him for a while longer, his face softening as he arrived to his own conclusion. "Alright, then. Read it out to me." He was handing Neil his notebook.

"Huh?"

"Read it out to me. You're a performer, aren't you? And what good is good poetry if it can't be performed?"

Neil blinked at him, gaping for a few seconds before snatching the notebook. He tightened his grip on what he clasped of the sheets around his shoulders, swishing the blankets as he made his way back over to his bed. Stepping on top of his mattress, he glanced down to Todd (who was still sitting at his desk, gazing up at Neil) before finally looking at the fresh ink on the page, clearing his throat.

 

_"My world is spinning_

_Under my feet._

_My world is spinning_

_And you're all I can see._

_I feel like I'm falling_

_And maybe I'm already there,_

_But you are my anchor_

_With your open arms and your grounding stare._

 

_Your sweetest laughter_

_Is my greatest suffering,_

_And your every smile_

_Is my greatest pain._

_Time and time again,_

_I feel so lost at sea_

_Please take me from it all_

_Lest I be caught in the rain._

 

_Take the words from my mouth_

_And lend a helping hand._

_Cushion me from my fall,_

_And help me to stand._

_Convince me that it's not all true,_

_That it's only hallucinations I see,_

_For I am alone in this fight,_

_Against my own heart and me."_

 

When Neil finished reading, he lowered Todd's notebook, ready to shower the author with praises, a question of _"Who?"_ on his lips, but he was so taken aback by Todd that he stood there, frozen and staring.

Todd was gazing up at him with so much wonder, his chin nestled on his forearms against the back of his chair (since that dork was sitting on his chair backwards), that Neil wanted to melt under his stare. His eyes had softened around the edges, drinking in everything about Neil despite the fact that he had stopped speaking. He seemed satisfied to just watch him, as if he could never be bored. Neil's heart thudded.

"You have the best voice I've ever heard," Todd murmured, smiling lazily. He looked ridiculous with his bedhead. "For performing, I mean," he tacked on, scrambling to clarify himself.

"I-" Neil was at a complete loss for words, and it wasn't because of the time of night — he was more awake than ever.

"I mean it," Todd emphasized when Neil seemed like he was going to deny it. "You give the words a life I could never even imagine they'd have — even as the writer."

"I- I'm glad," Neil muttered, bringing the back of his hand to his mouth as he let his blankets drop to his feet. Jesus Christ _, since when did he ever get flustered?_ "I'm really happy."

"Mm." Todd's smile was more than enough for the butterflies in Neil's stomach to get excited. "I really do love listening to your voice though, y'know?" he ended up blurting out in a burst of midnight confidence, letting a deep breath out as the words escaped him. Neil bounced on his mattress lightly, stepping off his bed back onto the floor in his agitation.

"You do realize that it's _your_ writing that has a lot to do with it, though, right?"

"No, I-"

"No, it really does," Neil insisted, closing the book and handing it back to its owner, then being tossed back onto the desk. "Why do you think literature like Shakespeare is performed over and over again, century after century?"

"He got lucky?" Todd tried, smiling timidly. Neil laughed.

"Yes, I do believe he wrote Romeo and Juliet by accident." On a whim, on the spur of the moment, Neil reached out, running his fingers through Todd's hair to smooth it out, impulsively ruffling it. _God, it was as soft as he thought._ When Todd leaned into his touch slightly, Neil felt like his heart was going to stop. "C'mon: now that we got that all sorted out, we should try and get some shut eye."

Todd didn't make any effort to move, too hypnotized under Neil's touch, so Neil leaned around him to turn off his lamp. When they were once again shrouded in darkness, Neil's hand slid down to Todd's shoulder, urging him to get back up. He even tugged at his arm, dragging him from his seat to the center of their room. Stood on the creaking floorboards, feet drowned in moonlight, they stared at each other, dazedly basking in the remaining dregs of their lasting moment. Neil held onto Todd's arm still, resisting the urge to slide his hand into the other's.

"Do you think you can sleep now?"

Todd nodded. "I wrote down what I needed to. How about you?"

"I think so," he worded carefully. "I'll try my best."

"Okay then."

"Okay."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Neil squeezed Todd's arm once more before letting go, hesitating to step out of the moonlight. When he was finally about a foot away, Todd also moved, and both busied themselves in getting back to bed. 

 

Neil had lied. He couldn't sleep. He couldn't sleep no matter what he tried. Every few seconds, he'd shift, just as he had before they had both gotten up. All he could think about was Todd's poem, and especially the compliments he was paid. When the right memory of that night crossed his mind at the right magnitude, he'd feel a surge of restless, burying himself into his pillow in happiness. 

How much time had passed? Neil was definitely going to regret staying up so late, but he couldn't get himself to sleep if his life depended on it: his mind was racing too quickly. Todd, on the other hand, hadn't moved in a while. He was probably fast asleep, peacefully unaware of Neil's agitation.

With the thought of the other's rest, Neil sat up slowly, careful about any creaking the old bed frame would be tempted to make. As quietly as possible, he slid from his covers, gently placing his feet on the old and cold floorboards. 

Neil's heart was thudding in his ears. It felt as if his own heart would betray him rather than his footsteps, but still he pushed on, step by step, gradually nearing his roommate's bedside. When he reached his destination, he felt as if he were dancing with danger, eagerly embracing the thrill of risk.

Todd was almost certainly asleep. He faced the center of the room, eyes fluttered closed as he breathed softly. Though his poetry had made him sound so tormented, he looked so peaceful now, so free and unrestrained from any earthly issues. 

Just to test his luck, Neil lifted his fingers to Todd's forehead, brushing the hair from the boy's face with his fingertips. He froze when Todd's breath stuttered ever so slightly, but then it regulated, rhythmic as if nothing had even happened.

Filled with confidence, Neil let himself be a bit more daring. _Carpe diem_... or rather, _carpe noctum_ , huh. 

Leaning forward, Neil stopped just in front of Todd's face, soft breaths warm against the other's skin. Letting his eyes flutter shut, he pressed his lips against the boy's forehead, lingering for as long as he dared before retracting once again.

Neil was absolutely breath-taken. He honestly didn't know how he would explain himself if Todd had woken up right then and there, but the feeling against his lips and the thought of his actions was more than he was looking for and would fuel his needs for quite a while. He almost didn't want to push his luck, but as the hand that had brushed Todd's bangs away from his face slid to the side, gently holding his cheek, Neil decided he needed more confirmation to make sure this was all real. Holding the other as gently as he could, as if he would break, he leaned in again.

It all happened in a blur, so quickly that Neil hadn't processed what was occurring until it _was_. Todd had moved suddenly, shifting enough in his bed that Neil didn't land on Todd's forehead but rather on another set of lips. It was their softness and the sudden movement that made Neil freeze, his breath caught in his chest, but it was Todd's mouth moving against his own that brought him back to life, tentatively reciprocating in what he thought was right. His head was spinning too fast to figure out what exactly was going on; this all felt like a dream.

When they finally detached, Neil was so breathless that he let his forehead rest against Todd's, who had propped himself up on his elbows in the time that they had been kissing. Eyes still closed, they huffed out a few giggles.

"Don't go kissing me when I'm not awake — that's not fair."

"I- I just-" Neil laughed. "Sorry, I'll tell you next time."

"So _now_ will you be able to sleep?"

He grinned mischievously. "No, I don't think so."

"And why's that?"

"I'm not sure... maybe..."

"So, you want-"

"What _do_ I want?"

"Oh, damn it all." Todd's hand reached the side of Neil's face, pulling him back down for more.

"You know," Neil mumbled against his lips, kissing him between words, "Who- was that poem- written for?"

"Hm?"

"The one you wrote just now."

"Oh."

"Because if it wasn't me, then someone's going to have to fight me."

Todd laughed. "Aren't you confident?" They parted again, Neil allowing himself to crawl up onto Todd's bed and flopping down onto his side.

"Of course I am: I'm on top of the world, I can do anything."

"Except sleep, apparently."

"Oh, come off it. I'll sleep."

"Goodnight, Neil."

"... Can I stay here?"

"As long as you're out before anyone can come in in the morning. Goodnight Neil."

Neil yawned, finally tired. "Night, Todd."

 

 

When Neil read Todd's poem at the next Dead Poets Society meeting, despite all the confidence Todd held during that fateful night they spent together, he became so flustered that the poem wasn't so anonymous anymore, especially after Meeks', and Pitts', Charlie's excessive and somewhat lewd teasing.

 

**Author's Note:**

> haha i got carried away sorry


End file.
